A conversation with Nia J.
Transcript of episode four of the Good Folk Podcast.
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Spencer George: Hello, everybody, and welcome back to the Good Folk Podcast. My name is Spencer George. If you have been listening, I am your host. I am joined here today by our amazing podcast producer Vic who is going to be chiming in at some point. So you haven't gotten a ton to hear Vic on audio yet, but you will get to today. Welcome to Victoria, and I am also joined here by our wonderful guest, a good friend of mine, an amazing musician, Nia J.
Nia J was born in Cleveland, Ohio and moved to North Carolina at a young age and has been living there ever since. She attended UNC Charlotte, where she began making music with her producer and friend Ike Byers. Together, the pair have collaborated to release several singles in a debut EP comprised of seven songs called Rabbit Hole.
Singer-songwriter Nia J's melodic music infuses sultry vocals and rich harmonies into contemporary R&B, producing a unique and introspective sound. She aspires to use both her pain and joy to create music that helps others.
If you are not yet familiar with Nia's music, I will say it is unlike anything that I have listened to in the best of ways. It is creative and innovative, and Nia is blending many different genres. You can easily see her talent for songwriting and her passion for what she does come through. She has been playing festivals across the state, largely based in Charlotte, getting lots of press since Rabbit Hole has come out. She is now living back in Southern Pines, Moore County, which is where Nia spent a lot of time growing up, and we're really lucky to have her here today.
We're going to talk about all kinds of exciting things, including music. Her rise to where she is now. Finding her voice in artistry. Learning how to trust that voice. Passing the knowledge and wisdom that you have gained onto others. And mostly realizing that you can do all of these things in the place that you call home without having to give in to that specific pressure that I know many of us feel. Which is to abandon everything you know and try to make art out of the chaos. But art does not always have to come from chaos.
And with that, I'm going to go ahead and turn it over to Nia for anything that you would like to add on to that or if you want to just go ahead and get right in and tell us a little bit about how you got started with music. What did that look like for you and who were some of your early inspirations?
Nia J: Thank you. Spencer. The intro was perfect. I don't need to add anything in that regard. Honestly it made me cry. It just feels really good to know that people enjoy the music as much as I enjoy making it.
So I started singing as a kid. I taught myself, like, songs on a toy piano, mostly the classical stuff. I was really into things like that. I did choir growing up in church as well as in school. I was really into singing with others and the energy that comes from that and just hearing harmonies and stacks and layers and things like that. It wasn't until, I think, middle school that I realized that I had a pretty good voice. Because, you know, like, your parents might tell you you can sing and your friends are like, oh, yeah, but you just never know how you'll be received. So in middle school, I started doing talent shows and things like that, and I'm a competitive way and realized, I guess I could take my voice to the next level and use it for something bigger.
And then I kind of fell off in college. I went to school for business, and it just seemed like the practical thing to do at the time. I didn't know what kind of career I could have as a singer or if I would go anywhere, and it was kind of scary. So I think business felt more comfortable. So I think maybe it was sophomore year or maybe junior year, I kind of just realized that I wasn't going to be an executive at Target [laughs].
There was no use in applying for internships in that realm. I was like, I'm clearly a creative. Whether that's solely music, whether it's art, I don't know. I just know that I'm supposed to be doing music. So I worked with a friend of mine who's an exceptional guitarist and musician and producer, and we were able to put together a lot of music and record it all in his bedroom. I've never recorded, like, formally in a studio, and, yeah, it's been nice to work with him to kind of figure out the genre that I like and how to fuse together the different sounds that just feel cozy to me as an artist. And so now I'm in Southern Pines, I’m not in Charlotte anymore and trying to figure out, I guess, my next project.
SG: I'm very interested in a couple of things you just brought up that I want to delve into a little further. Actually, two major things. Number one is this feeling of kind of destiny, of like you're fighting against artistry. Right. But you know, it's something that you have to do. I think that is such a specific feeling for so many artists and I definitely can relate to that. I wish, I mean— I complain to people often, sometimes I wish I literally wanted to do anything else. Like I wish I could just go into tech and be happy with that. Right?
But also this idea that you kind of had to go this one path because it was the safe route and the smart route and that's what you felt like you needed to do in order to even possibly do music, you know, to do that first and have the opportunities to make music later. Was it terrifying in some sense to say, I'm not going to do the path, I tried this path that's expected of me, I don't think this is going to work out, I'm going to do something totally different? Especially like you said, you're making music in a bedroom.
You know, we joke often about when you get the email, right, this idea for so many people— you and me, we have this joke that when you're in a creative field, every day you have to tell yourself today is the day you get the email. In the creative world, you can get an email that will change your life. And if you don't get that email that day, you tell yourself the same thing at night for the next day. And you just keep saying that until it's true.
But I do think there's this idea in artistry that you have to wait until you get that email to make things. And one thing I really appreciate about your journey and your own artistic practice is you've been doing it with or without the emails. Because at the end of the day, you have to kind of put yourself on that path in order for anybody to even find you to give you the email. But did that feel terrifying to say, you know what, screw it, I'm just going to start doing it?
NJ: Yes. And I just want to speak to what you said about waiting until you get the email because I think by nature I'm really cautious and everything has to be planned and I don't like working in the unknown realm. So I traditionally have always been afraid to make music because I was, like, waiting. I want to be noticed by some record company or, you know, just have the insurance of knowing the music will go somewhere and be properly placed and reach people. So for a while, I think that's why I gave it up, because I'm like, it's not going to be a formal thing. I can't pay. I can't afford to have it, like, mastered.
But making music with Ike, yeah, it's definitely taught me that you kind of can just figure it out along the way, and the product is usually beautiful. But I definitely think that transitioning into being more of a full time creative has been really challenging. Deciding not to pursue a full time job has a huge set of challenges, money being probably the first one. But I think the time that it gives me is really valuable because, you know, in those moments of, just not being, like, slammed with work all day long. I get to kind of think more about where I want to go next with music and, like, writing. I love having more time to write. So it’s scary, but so far worth it.
Vic Landers: With that, is there something that you wish you could tell your younger self? Like, now having been through that journey of the transition and making those hard decisions, is there something, past you wished you knew? When you got to this point of making that decision to pursue art as a full time? Is there something that you wish you knew or could have gone back and be like, little Nia, this is what you need to know?
NJ: So many things. But I guess if I could only tell myself one thing, it would be to go for it. Don't be so cautious. Don't wait for everything to feel like it's in place, because I don't know if it ever will all be in place. So act now and use what you have to make the art that you want to see. Because I think if you wait too long to accumulate resources and for the moment to be just right, you won't create what the world really needs to hear.
SG: Yes. I want to go back to thinking about you as a child. You mentioned kind of getting your start in music, doing things like church choir and schools, right? Yeah, okay. I think about this in the sense of the south, because I also grew up going to church. There is such a history of music in almost everyday life in a way that is embedded in this region that it's not always in other places, because church culture, for better or worse, is a thing here in a way that you might not find in certain other cities.
Do you think you would have fallen into music kind of without that introduction? And do you find, whether you are still religious or not, do you find that that has any influence on your sounds today? Especially in the world of kind of R&B music? You can trace back the influence of gospel and soul music that was often really integrated with spirituality. And your music does feel so soulful and spiritual. Is that influence intentional or have you found that just comes naturally?
NJ: Wow. I don't think I've ever given that any thought. And I'm not sure if my music would be what it is today if I didn't sing in church choirs. And, you know, singing in church really gave me a voice, in a sense, because they put me on stage and they praised my work and my voice. And the praise goes a long way when you're doing creative work because it kind of tells you that what you're doing is good and worth doing more of. So I don't know, without that push, I don't know if it would have turned into something more.
And I also think the spirituality part, you know, thank you for saying that you can sense that in my music. I do think the harmonies, the rich harmonies of choir choral music, like old spirituals, I definitely rely on heavily when I'm making music. Just that soothing sound. I mean, there's also pain in that. Those really old spirituals that we did sing in choir. So trying to incorporate that is always my intention.
SG: For sure. We're kind of witnessing this period musically. Like, one of the first bands that comes to mind is The Dead Weather. If you don't know them, it's Jack White and Alison Mosshart, both of whom are into other bands, both of whom are now based in Nashville. And they're doing a lot with this kind of like, bluesy, soulful, rock. And I really feel like we're witnessing a moment where it's an interesting time to be a Southerner and it's especially an interesting time to be a Southern musician because we have a lot of musicians that are going back to their roots with these kinds of things, that are returning to the songs they sang in church choirs growing up. They're returning to the songs that their families played.
I'm thinking very specifically, I was raised on a lot of Johnny Cash, a lot of Elvis. Just saw the Elvis movie and I was, I should have known this, but it was fascinating to see the amount of music that was really taken by him from other communities that wasn't his to take necessarily, but also may not have been given cultural precedence otherwise at that point in time. We are in a time now where it does feel that you really need to give rights where rights are due. And I think we're seeing this kind of return to people's roots in a way that feels almost like coming home. And it's really beautiful.
And when I listen to your music, that's sometimes how it feels. It feels like, oh, yes, you're coming back to your roots and you can kind of sense that you're going through this journey.
I know you and I have talked about this off this podcast, but the idea that growing up wanting to be a musician or wanting to be an artist, it's like, yeah, of course I'm going to leave, right? There's no opportunity for me here. And now you've just moved back to your hometown. Has that journey been reflected with your music? I mean, I think you can track it in the music. But do you feel that that was intentional and do you feel that, like, Charlotte is a big city, very different than the area you are living now, going from small town to big city, having that experience but still staying in state and then coming back, is that something that's had an influence on your work or do you consciously think about that?
NJ: Yeah, I think when Alyssa, my partner, we first talked about possibly moving back to Southern Pines or to Pinehurst, I actually cried. I was washing dishes, and I'm like, I can't imagine, like, going back there again. I felt like I established a good life so far for myself in Charlotte. Things were taking off and there was this stereotype, I feel like, surrounding being home and staying home or in your hometown here. It's just this huge stigma that if you're here, you're doing nothing or you're going nowhere.
And so I kind of had to evaluate that and why I cried and what triggered that and understand that there's a lot of beautiful things here in Southern Pines and what they're doing. And I'm excited to be a part of the community. And it is a smaller town. But I hope to meet other musicians here. And I'm also hoping to dabble in some other genres musically. So I do hope that the change of scenery will inspire the sound of my music for better. I'm hoping to do some more instrumental work, like folky, definitely blues. I like rock, things like that. So I'm hoping to find people that play and kind of go in a different direction musically.
VL: I love that because as someone who, you know, we grew up in the same town, but our paths never crossed until we met a couple of years ago. But as someone who grew up in Moore County and still lives in Moore County, that's a conversation I relate to. I went to school in Greensboro, and my plans were to stay in Greensboro, and then Covid happened and I lost my housing and I lost my job, and I was like, well, I guess I'm going back home. And then throughout Quarantine, the only thing that kind of kept me sane was like, okay, when I get back out, because I can't stay here, because if I stay here, I'm going to amount to nothing or I won't be able to be a real artist, or I won't be able to actually pursue my dreams in artistry. And then here I am two, three years later [laughs].
But I think also being surrounded by other young artists and young queer artists and young queer Southern artists has helped me kind of take that lens of the town I grew up in that I very much looked at through my little high school eyes. Like, oh, it's small and there's nothing cool here and there's just old people involved. And I was able to look at it with a completely new perspective. We would hang out at Katie's place, one of our old coworkers, and we would all just, like, watch Drag Race and have our little dinners and just hearing everyone's experiences of my hometown from, in my perspective, like, outsider views, I was like, oh, actually this sounds like a really nice place.
Then I adapted that and I was like, okay, maybe this is somewhere that I can grow and succeed. And then I met Spencer, who has been the greatest turning point in my life in the sense of how I view Southern cities and Southern towns to be like, oh, my gosh, there are such great people and opportunities in an amazing art community that gets so overlooked because it's not New York and it is my hometown. I could have lived anywhere. I could have lived in Nashville, I could have lived somewhere in Kentucky and I would have had that same thing. It's like my hometown. I cannot be anything if I don't leave. So I feel that and kudos to you for coming back and being like, you know what? Screw it. I'm going to take this bull by the horns, and I'm going to make it my own thing, and I'm going to attack it how I want, and I'm going to welcome it how I want. So, yes, I love that. Good for you. Love.
SG: You know what's really interesting, too, as you all are speaking about this, is the amount of people who had this experience because of Covid in so many ways. That was also what happened to me, coming back due to the circumstances of 2020. And it's like, okay, yeah, I'm going to be here for now. And like both of you, I probably did not—I mean, I know I definitely did not— think I would be here forever. I was like, oh, yeah, I'll be here for a year or two, right? And now here I am getting a M.A. in Southern Studies, running Good Folk.
And Victoria, thank you for the little shout out there. I like to think that we're all on this journey together, right? I find every day I am still overcoming bias against the South. And if you listen to our last podcast episode with Dacia, this is what we were talking about exactly. This feeling of, like, you love it and you hate it because it's really hard to love a place that does not feel it loves you back. And I haven't even moved back to my hometown. I'm back in the South, but it's hard for me to ever imagine myself fully back in my hometown hometown. I've was back there for the last ten days or so, and I always feel myself being afraid to see someone I went to high school with or someone who knows me. It’s this idea of being perceived in a way that is very uncomfortable.
But then what's funny is that people will come up to me that I knew from growing up, and they'll be like, oh, my gosh, did you go to so-and-so school? Like, when did you graduate? I've been following everything you're doing now and I would love to talk to you more.
And it's like, you go around thinking, this is a place that did not like me when I was 16, 17, and therefore it is not going to like me now. And it's fascinating and also almost heartbreaking to come back in your mid-twenties and realize how much of that is me projecting onto a place. Right. Because I wouldn't be who I am if it hadn't been for this place. I think all of us can attest to that. My art would not be what it is. My writing, your music, Victoria’s photography, none of these things would be as they are without these experiences, good and bad.
I think that's kind of the point I'm thinking about when I'm looking at your history of music and growing up in the church, having that experience lead you to where you are today. And you can hate it all you want and you can still know, you know, I wouldn't have what I have without any of this.
But it is so hard to come back and to try to love a place that you did not love at 16, and it does not feel like it's going to love you now if you are who you fully are. And I think it's also beautiful and necessary to do that work. But we are in a time where I feel as though every day I am waking up to politicians and lawmakers and government officials and the people who get to make the say in the place where I live who are actively saying, I don't really care about what you do, and your little art projects are not that important because I have all the power.
But more and more, what we're starting to see is that art, it does have the power to change things. And the world would not have gotten to where we are if it hadn't been for people sharing those stories and speaking out and making songs. And I love what you said at the very beginning, Nia: I am making the kind of music that the world needs to hear so I can't go into business. I mean, you could have, I guess. But I won’t. And I morally can't because what I am doing is necessary and important. And if you are listening and you are an artist or you have ever wanted to make art and no one tells you that, I will tell you that because your art, in any form, it is necessary and it is important, and I hope you continue to make it. And that goes for you, Nia, and for everybody listening.
NJ: Wow. So wholesome.
VL: I know, she speaks so eloquently. Like, she'll just, like, throw these big words and knows how to string together sentences, and I'm sitting here like, yeah, what's your favorite color?
NJ: Right? This is great. Yes. I’ll get to count how many times I say like and um [laughs].
SG: We can edit all that stuff out these days [laughs]. Nia, one thing I want to talk to you about is I think when we talk about the south, and especially when we talk about Southern artistry, there is this tendency to treat it as a monolith, right? There's this idea that the music scene in Charlotte is going to be the same as the music scene in Nashville, which is going to be the same as the music scene in Columbia, South Carolina, which is the same as the music scene in Raleigh-Durham. And all of these are very different. You've now had some experience in Charlotte. I know you've played some shows in the Triangle. You're kind of leaning more into the Southern Pines rural artistry experience. What has that been like for you? Was it totally a different world to step into playing music in Charlotte?
You've played quite a few shows, and you've been named by quite a few publications. You've had some radio interviews, all kinds of exciting things. How has that been different? Did it feel just like a totally different world? And, you know, could you touch on the fact that the music scene is really different in every city. You're not going to go to Nashville and get the same thing as you are in Charlotte. But what are some of the things that you would think make Charlotte unique as a place for music?
NJ: Yeah, I haven't had the privilege of touring yet. I definitely think I will get to in my lifetime.
SG: It will happen for sure. If you're listening and you want to set up a tour, we're going to link to Nia's music. Maybe we'll even try to play it at the end here. But yes, give her a tour so I can go on it.
NJ: But from what I've heard, it seems that Charlotte is very supportive of the musicians. I'm not in Charlotte anymore, but I think it's a very supportive atmosphere. I haven't really had any negative encounters. Everyone is always so overwhelmingly kind when you're performing, really eager to get me in the door, to give me opportunities, and I wasn't expecting that. I thought it would be a lot harder and a lot more rigid and scary, but I'm finding that it's not. And I think in places like New York City or even on the West Coast in L.A., I think it's a little bit more intense and so over-saturated that, you know, there is kind of that, like, jaded nature about exclusivity and who can perform where, and not seeming like you're enjoying something too much because you have to have this facade that you're the best. And I don't find that in Charlotte. So I think it's been a really positive experience.
VL: I forgot about that I guess that it would be over-saturated and that people have to have that facade of, like, I'm too good for you, but also give me a record deal and money and things. I don't know. That's just usually when I think of big cities, I think, oh, everyone's got a chance. Everyone loves it there. Everyone wants to be everyone. Everyone wants to hear from everyone.
So I guess that's something unique to the South and not to, like, stereotype that everyone's really friendly down here, but most times they are. People are like, what can I do to help? How can I give you a loving hand? How can I give you a step up? And I think that's something that gets overlooked. And part of me, like, wants to gatekeep that. I don't know. Everyone just wants to help you. Everyone just wants to be loving. And then with that, how does someone who starts small as a musician and wants to, get to the point where you are and start performing in the city, who do you look out for? How do you outreach? How do you find those communities that will welcome you?
NJ: Yeah. That's a good question.
VL: How did you do it?
NJ: Well, I think networking is the biggest thing. So whether it's going to places where there are shows by local artists, following people on social media, just really putting yourself out there, like, any time you're in a place where there's someone else who does like your craft, making that introduction or having a conversation and getting connected. So that way down the line, when you see things that are coming up in their lives, you can, like, communicate about that and ask, oh, how did you do this? Or how did you get this gig? And that's really been my experience so far. I think just meeting as many people as possible and always saying yes, I haven't said no to many things. So just being in a position to understand that you kind of have to take all the opportunities that you can and make the most of it. Whether you get paid, whether you don't, whether you think it's small or whether it's scary, just being like yes to everything.
SG: I want to go back to the point on over-saturation because I think it's so great and it's something I think about often. And when you're young and you're looking around, like, where can I go to make the most of my art? There are usually a few certain places that you will get directed to. If you're in writing and music, that's usually New York. If you're in film and TV, that's usually L.A. There are other places in between, but those are always kind of the big ones. Right? And one thing I found for me is like, when I got there, I thought that would be the key to making my art flourish and shine. I thought that would give me that networking that you're talking about of like, oh, yeah, of course. I just have to get there, right? Every TV show, every film, every book, it's all about just getting there.
What nobody tells you, and maybe we need the resource guide for this, is what do you do once you're there? Because I too found it's very over saturated. And there's this ego of, oh, I'm better than that opportunity. But I also have to say yes to every opportunity I get because I'm a starving artist and I need money, right?
The best thing— and I will preach this to people— I think the best and hardest thing I ever did for my creative practice was to leave that environment where I had all the networking and resources right directly in front of me because I found I did not know how to use them. I was terrified to actually start building these connections. And I did not actually know the difference between art that I was making for myself because I believed in it and I wanted to do it and I was excited about it and art that I thought I was making to get me those connections.
It's like making a song because, you know, maybe this producer will hear it and love it. Not because it's what you really want to do. It is so hard to get away from that. But I think often about how transformed my creative practice has been moving away from this over saturation. When you do anything in the realm of a binary, existing for this expectation, and creativity naturally goes against all binaries, right? Creativity is the language of the universe which does not make any sense and is not a perfect order. Therefore, when you are going to make art that is really going to say something, you actually in my eyes, you really do have to step out of those binaries to really do it differently.
Now, the world that we live in does not really celebrate difference. So if you go to do that, you will find a lot of resistance. I always comfort myself by reading stories of how many times people got rejected before they got their big break.
But this idea that the world is oversaturated with art, I actually think it's false because there can never be too much art. It's that the world is over-saturated with the art that we think we're supposed to make. Right? And if you decide to do it differently and if you say, I'm going to go back to my hometown, I'm going to walk away— and I would love for you to talk about this in just a second, because you had kind of built up this pretty solid music career for yourself in Charlotte, right? Like you talked about, you cried when you found out you might not stay in Charlotte. Because it's hard to build those networks. I don't want to say that this work to get the networks isn't hard, but I do think it is harder to get it and walk away from it and say, this isn't working for me right now, or it's not possible for me right now. Because at the end of the day, it's not possible for everybody to pack their life up and go where their artistry is based. And what we actually need to do is diversify the art world.
But when you do that, I think there is an element of creativity, a new kind of creativity that can come out and you can really get back to, like, what it is you set out to do. I don't know if you agree with any of that. I don't know if you feel that you're having that experience now of, I went to Charlotte and I did this thing and I worked really hard, I did all the things I said I wanted to do, and now I'm walking away from it. What next? Where do you go from here? How are you dealing with that? I personally did not deal with it very well in the moment, but now we're here on the other side of that, I can be like, maybe I dealt with it better than I thought.
NJ: Yeah. I think Good Folk is like, I don't know the word, but it shows that maybe it worked out.
SG: Yeah. [laughs]. Good Folk is in many ways a coping mechanism.
NJ: Coping mechanism?
SG: When I left that community and I said, how can I find this network? I can't find it. I'm going to just build it. Sometimes these things can be beautiful.